


Heaven is Here with Me

by SentientBentley



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley has Trauma from the Fall (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hot Chocolate, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:02:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27917914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SentientBentley/pseuds/SentientBentley
Summary: This was a submission forCelestial Harmonies Zine, issue 2: Cider and Cocoa.(Exclusivity period has ended).Aziraphale has told Crowley that  he loves him. The demon wasn't sure how to react, and started pulling away, making things weird between them. Aziraphale knows he needs to be patient, but he also wants to cheer Crowley up.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41
Collections: Celestial Harmonies: Cider & Cocoa





	Heaven is Here with Me

> _O sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams  
>  That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere._  
>  ― **John Milton, Paradise Lost**

If Aziraphale fidgeted any more, he was going to drop his cocoa. The angel set his winged mug down and sighed. It had begun raining, drops quietly pattering on the windows of his bookshop. Just like it had started to when he and Crowley had met at the wall in the Garden of Eden. He couldn’t stop thinking about a conversation they had had earlier this week, in which... _oh good Heavens, really?_...in which Aziraphale had confessed his love. But it had been too soon, too much at once for the poor demon. Crowley had basically frozen, and had finally eked out that he believed he didn’t deserve such a love; that he thought himself too broken for someone so pure.

Had Aziraphale really expected anything different? No...maybe. He had tried to console his dear, but Crowley had fled the bookshop and had driven the Bentley even faster than usual. Aziraphale had been giving Crowley space since then, his hands refusing to stop shaking with the nervousness of how to fix it.

The angel shifted his thoughts to something more trivial. He was honestly growing a bit tired of the latest cocoa recipe he had put together, which had a tanginess from its orange infusions, but he felt a change was in order. Aziraphale liked to change things up when it came to food and drink; always trying new flavours, but never miracling them. _That_ was too easy. He smiled; Crowley appreciated it when they went out to discover new food and drinks that Aziraphale liked, although Crowley rarely ate. He did always like to watch Aziraphale eat, at the least. Maybe he wouldn’t be against just a small outing...and Aziraphale did need an excuse to try to convince him of his worthiness, as much as the demon would protest. _Now who’s doing the tempting?_ he thought to himself, smiling primly.

Aziraphale remembered he had several lifestyle magazines lying about; in one of them, he had found a section all about chocolate boutiques and cafes. Wonderful; he hadn’t even miracled that. There was one in Hampstead called _Chocolate Paradise_ , which offered luxury chocolates and delectable cocoa, but he also noticed from the pictures that the walls were painted with forest and plant scenes. Crowley would love that. It would relax him, although the name might not, but Aziraphale could work with that. The angel moved to phone Crowley, accidentally stepping on a copy of _Paradise Lost_ that he’d forgotten to shelve. He picked it up, noticing the book had opened to a section of book IV: _Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep_ \-- No, not this again. He sighed and re-shelved the book. Had Crowley been reading it? He didn’t know, and best to keep it hidden away for now, for fear it would make the poor dear’s emotional state worse.

Aziraphale sighed again and dialed Crowley’s flat number from his rotary phone. This wasn’t going to be pleasant, but Crowley would expect that he would check in on him. Crowley never did well with conflict, always choosing to run away. Yet, even when he was mad, the demon would always pick up. And if he wasn’t at home, he would have Aziraphale’s calls forwarded to his mobile.

“What”. It wasn’t even a question; Crowley sounded sleep-drunk, and maybe a little...weak? Sad?

“My dear boy…” Aziraphale evened his voice out so as not to give away his sadness. “I do hope you’re alright. I thought I would call to make sure you’re okay. I know...I know I made things...strange between us for now. But...if it’s alright with you, I’d like to take you out and cheer you up a bit. You deserve that, at least”. _You deserve the world,_ he thought, but held back telling Crowley anything else deep for now; the demon might very well pass out at the sound of it.

There was a second or two of silence, and the despairing drawl came: “I can’t, angel”.

“You can”, Aziraphale tried to say firmly, without sounding harsh. “But--I understand. I frightened you. I was out of line. I’d like to correct that”.

Nothing.

“Th--there’s a cafe I found in one of my magazines that I’d like to go to--” he steadied himself. “I think you’ll feel better after going. Namely, because they do have some delectable treats that I love--”

“--You weren’t out of line”, Crowley interrupted.

_Okay. Finally._

“You can tell me your feelings, angel; it’s just...hard for me to think--to accept any of it yet”.

Aziraphale listened patiently and offered, “that’s okay. And--there’s a surprise”. He wished Crowley could see the little wiggle he did just then.

“A surprise?” Aziraphale could almost _hear_ Crowley roll his eyes. “If this is a ruse to get me to watch your magic act again, I swear to Satan--”

“It’s not that!” Aziraphale huffed. “And don’t make fun; you know how much I enjoy it. But anyhow, I’m not giving any hints”.

“Technically that _was_ a hint, angel”.

“See”, Aziraphale smirked, “you’re feeling better already”.

They had had, at least, _some_ conversation on the way to Hampstead (consisting mostly of Aziraphale urging Crowley to slow down), although Aziraphale did try earnestly, _repeatedly_ , to make small talk on London restaurants. He could tell Crowley listened, but the angel did not receive much beyond the occasional grunt. “Well”, Aziraphale said as they neared the cafe, “you’ll like this place”.

An ever-so-slight smirk. “Is it spooky?”

“What? No, it--it’s just--you’ll see! I said no hints!”

Crowley muttered under his breath and sped up as Aziraphale held on for dear life...er, well, preventative discorporation.

The boutique was located in a gorgeous brick building with white window heads. “No, no, no… _seriously?_ ” Crowley said upon seeing the sign, shaking his head. Aziraphale could tell he was tolerating this little excursion for his love of watching the angel eat. Aziraphale, for his part, could not contain his excitement. He adored boutique cafes and had been salivating over the pictures in the magazine. Each boutique cafe was completely unique, and he loved learning about the ingredients, about what made the offerings _special._

He opened the cherry wood door for Crowley.  
“After you…”  
He heard the demon scoff at that, likely remembering being called a “foul fiend” before Aziraphale had offered him the door at the bookshop.

 _That was eleven years ago..._ Aziraphale reminisced. _Seems so far away now..._

The boutique featured pristine white walls and hardwood floors, tiers of chocolate piled high in every direction. There were seemingly sky-high displays in the center, and boxes of every color of the rainbow lining white shelves against the wall. And then, of course, there was the _heavenly_ smell, the aromas of chocolate and fragrant fruits filing the air. Aziraphale remembered this was one of the reasons why he loved Earth so much, internally laughing at the irony of using that word for chocolate, of all things. _They don’t have chocolate in Heaven...it’s considered sinful...but here I am tempting a demon to it...oh, dear._

Grinning like a child, Aziraphale promptly ordered the salted caramel hot chocolate, some luxury dark chocolates for himself...and some white chocolates for Crowley, just in case. He noticed Crowley circling the back shelves, pretending to look at the chocolates. _He’s so handsome_ , Aziraphale tried not to blush… _especially with how he stands out among the white shelving…stark, copper hair wearing sleek black…_

“Here”, Aziraphale shook it off and made a move for the sitting area, “isn’t this wonderful…” He was attempting to get the demon to look at the charcoal-gray chairs, the colour and modern style matching that of his flat. “And there…”, he started, motioning towards the back wall of the cafe, “is the first part of the surprise”.

He saw Crowley perk up a little to look at the mural he had pointed to, depicting a forest with leaves all along it. He made sure to grab them a table next to it.

“See? It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It--yeah”. Crowley mumbled.

 _Always hiding._ He could tell the demon was pleased; touched, even, but was trying to hide it. Well, 6,000 years had been an exercise in patience; what was another afternoon?

“Please, dear, sit down”.

Crowley slouched across from him, arms crossed, his head sagging a bit.

Aziraphale knew that none of this would be easy, but he needed to start somewhere.

“Now”, Aziraphale said gently in between sips of his hot cocoa after munching on the candy and making sure Crowley was paying attention (he had rejected the white chocolates; Aziraphale put them away for later), “I wanted to tell you that I understand the source of your feelings. You are drawing on your history with your fall, and with Hell, to define yourself, but I’m telling you that it doesn’t apply anymore”.

A blank stare, then: “Please don’t tell me that’s the other part of the surprise”.

“No--well, not directly--but you wouldn’t let me say anything at the bookshop the other day. I was going to tell you that I understand where your hesitation is coming from. I didn’t mean to impose anything on you or invade your boundaries”. He paused and looked away. “I should’ve asked you what you were ready for, not just forced my feelings on you”.

He saw Crowley shift uncomfortably in his seat, his Adam’s apple move (ugh, why that name?), his arms still crossed. He hadn’t been looking at Aziraphale since he’d made that jab. 

_Won’t you let me hold you?_ It was so painful to hold back. “I’m trying to say I’m sorry, my dear. Will you please look at me?”

He expected a glare, retort and a scowl to boot, but the only thing he saw on Crowley’s face was sadness. He had learned over the millennia to read the demon’s aura, and he could sense now that he _wanted_ to tell him something, but couldn’t, or wasn’t ready.

“It’s okay, dear boy...you don’t have to say anything now. You don’t have to decide anything. I just wanted to let you know that yes, that is how I feel, but I won’t try to rush you. I want you to know that I’m here for you, and accept you as you are. Look”, he exclaimed, getting up and grabbing Crowley’s arm as the demon whimpered, “here is the other part of the surprise”. The whimper turned into a low growl as Aziraphale pulled him toward the other end of the boutique.

Above the stark white shelves rested another mural, a curved forest canopy, covering the entire ceiling in the back area.

“Look how beautiful that is”, Aziraphale coaxed as Crowley gasped in awe.

“It looks like--” Crowley stepped forward, directly under the mural, now understanding the café name. Aziraphale thought he could see a beam of light coming from somewhere on the ceiling, bathing Crowley in its pale glow. Crowley must have seen it too, because he looked around for its source, although neither of them was sure what it was. Finally, Crowley was still, looking up at the forest, and Aziraphale thought briefly that perhaps he was reminiscing.

 _I hope I haven’t hurt him with this...I only wanted to show him what I think of him_ …Aziraphale worried, but he knew that Crowley knew better than to think Aziraphale would ever mock him like this.

“It--I--” Crowley fumbled for words, shifting his hands into his pockets. “Why have you done this?” his voice broke as he tried to fight off tears; teetering toward the edge of anger, Aziraphale noted.

_Oh, no. Please--_

“Hold on, Crowley”, said the angel reassuringly as he stepped under the mural to take Crowley’s hands in his. “You see, my point in showing you this is to remind you of the _only_ place Eden needs to be. You are here, with me, and that in itself can be your own Heaven. We are here, _together; that_ is our paradise”. He hoped it made sense. “And”, he added nervously, hopefully not ruining the entire conversation, “you will always be an angel to me”. Now _he_ was crying. He hadn’t meant for that to happen...

Crowley took a few seconds to process all of this before his lip began trembling and Aziraphale embraced him. “Oh...come here, my dear. I’ll be listening when you’re ready”. He held the demon while the poor darling sobbed, performing a small miracle so no one noticed them.

When they were both finished sobbing, Aziraphale wiped Crowley’s eyes (those gorgeous orbs that reminded him of the stars...) and asked mischievously, “Now! Would you like some hot cocoa, dear boy? It will certainly warm you up”.

“Well, actually I b--bought you some--” Crowley blubbered, and a beautiful white square box with satin ribbon appeared out of nowhere. Chocolate pearls...!

Aziraphale gasped. “What?! When did you--?”

“Don’t worry, I _bought_ it. I just--y’know, miracled it so you wouldn’t see”. That cheeky grin. Aziraphale blushed.

“You _devil_ ”, he teased, setting the chocolates on a nearby table. _He understands where I’m coming from now, at least...we will get there...at some point._ “So. About getting you that cocoa”.

Crowley beamed at him as they continued to hold hands, tear stains still visible past his glasses. “Love to”, he whispered.

Back at the bookshop, the copy of _Paradise Lost_ managed to launch itself off the shelf, opening briefly to a section of Book I before closing, and then dematerialising completely.

> _A mind not to be changed by place or time.  
>  The mind is its own place, and in itself  
>  Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven._

**Author's Note:**

> The café in this story is based on a real one in London, Artisan du Chocolat. The name has been changed, but the menu items and descriptions of the shop are all real! (Note: The available chocolates on the website and at any current locations may have changed since this story was written). This story was based on a previous location in Hampstead, although it now seems that one has closed. Check out their current locations here.


End file.
